


I knew you and you knew me, but do we know each other anymore?

by Anorptron



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Uprising
Genre: AKA Selfless DUmbass, Angst, Anyways, Family, Honestly theyre probs ooc, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Major character death - Freeform, Memory Loss, Multi, Solitude, Time Skips, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, War, but i cant remember them atm lmao, but who cares, characters are now old as Fuck, friends - Freeform, learning how to live again, theres other characters and stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22443838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anorptron/pseuds/Anorptron
Summary: Every cycle you are presented with choices.Simple ones.Hard ones.Ones that don’t even feel like a choice.You have a choice in everything you do.But sometimes, you choose wrong.
Relationships: Beck/Cutler (Tron), Tron (Tron)/Yori (Tron)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	1. PROLOGUE

_ Tron, If you are reading this, then I am dead, and you remember. _

_ If I am not dead and you don’t remember, please trust me, and put this datapad away and forget about it. _

_ Or if I am dead, and you don’t remember, please, read no further and destroy it. _

_ I’ve been writing this letter for a very long time, and yet I’m still not sure what to tell you. A lot has happened since you died. To be honest, pieces of my memory have started to fade; I’m getting old. I think I’m older than you now, if we don’t count the cycles you were dead. Ironic isn’t it? You trained me to be your successor, and yet you will be the one succeeding me. You probably don’t find that funny, though to be fair, you found very little funny when I knew you. _

_ I don’t know if I still know you, or if the man you were is lost to the past, only to be found in my memories. I’m not sure if that would be good or bad, to be frank. Understandably, you weren’t happy then. You were moody and unpredictable, and unbelievably stubborn. I suppose that’s what made my decision for me. You see, when you arrived that cycle, I had never seen you so trusting, so relaxed, so at peace. I had never seen you so much like me. I wanted you to keep that happiness, because, after everything you’ve been through, you deserved it so so much. And it seemed like the grid agreed, for it recompiled your counterpart as well. (I still can’t believe anyone would bond with you.) _

_ I couldn’t take that from you, no matter how much I missed you. The two of us each had a role to play. You, the retired Monitor. And me, the recluse system Administrator and Monitor. I kept tabs on you, making sure the two of you were safe and getting by okay. Despite what you might think, I never abandoned you. I simply watched and protected from a distance. _

_ But enough of that, time to fill you in on the important bits. _

_ I found Cutler again, soon after I lost you. I wish you could have properly met him, I think you would have liked him. He was a good man. We were together for a while, but then he got captured, repurposed, and as far as I know killed. Never got the chance to Bond with him. Did I tell you I was gay? I think I did. _

_ Mara and Zed didn’t make it out either. They both derezzed in the bombing of Argon.  _

_ I met your friend Flynn, didn’t like him much if I’m honest. Don’t know what you saw in him. _

_ I’m not sure where I’m going to leave this yet, so this part may seem redundant. _

_ The base in Argon still stands. It’s where I spend any time I can spare. Between you and me, this whole administrator thing is overrated. Thankfully, I think I’m finally getting everything set up enough that I can have a team handle it and I can stay at the base. _

_ If you are wondering about the war, sorry to let you down. I don’t have much to say about it. It was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. So many programs died. There are entire cities, ones that you and I knew well, that some programs have never even heard of. They didn’t withstand the test of time. You didn’t either. _

_ These cycles when programs hear your name they think of me, not the great warrior you were. There are very few who remember that you came before. I wish I knew how to fix that, but until you remember, fixing it would only cause you problems. _

_ My disc is yours. I suppose that’s rather obvious, isn’t it? Not like there is anyone else to take it. You should figure out the password to it easily enough, just in case this falls in the wrong hands, I’m not going to tell you the code.  _

_ You have my blessing to view any and all memories you wish, despite that, please be mindful of the ones with Cutler. I think somethings are better taken to the grave. _

_ I hope you don’t mind, but I do have a question, and despite the fact that I won’t ever know the answer, I’d like to ask regardless. In the end, now that you know just about everything, did I make you proud? _

_ I truly hope I did. _

_ You’re a good program, Tron. And I am honored to have known you. And even more honored to carry your name to my grave. _

_ I’ll leave you with some advice: Don’t ever be cowardly. Always be kind. Laugh like you won’t see the next micro. Fight like it’s your last fight. And above all else, Tron, be happy, for the both of us. _

_ Catch you on the flip side, _

_ Beck. _


	2. Pain is Nothing New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's so old, he's so tired, but his story isn't over yet.

Clu is dead. 

It’s the only thing Beck can think as he stares at the System Administrators voxels. After all these cycles, he finally completed his mission. 

He wonders if Tron would finally be proud.

It’s with that thought that he allows himself to sink to the ground, taking the weight off of his mangled leg. He should take off his disc and inspect his code. He should apply patches to his leg and to the bleeding gash in his stomach, but he doesn’t do anything of the sort. Instead, opting to look up to the sky.

He forgot how beautiful the sky looked. It’s been so long since he had a moment to breathe and just admire everything around him. 

The last time he had the chance must have been before Tron died. Since his death, he hasn’t had a moment of rest. His every waking moment has been filled with endless work, ranging from engaging in conflicts to doing paperwork.

To be quite honest, he much preferred to do paperwork than to fight these days. That would sound odd to younger him, or any of the friends he once had, but he’s older now and he knows better. When he’s doing paperwork, his people are safest, they aren’t in as much danger as usual. 

Not to mention he’s oddly grateful for the break paperwork provides, it lets his wounds heal and his body a rest from the constant strain he puts on it. It’s the most therapeutic part of his job these cycles.

He’s not sure if it’s a good thing or not that he hasn’t had a break. Beck’s rather sure that if he would have had one, he would have broken down long ago- probably after losing Cutler.

Beck winces at that, his dead lover’s name causing an ache in his core. Not a cycle goes by that he doesn’t miss him, that he doesn’t wish that he was here with him- and at times- wishing he was here instead.

His musings are rudely interrupted by a cough. It’s rough, loud, thick cough. The kind where no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to catch your breath. He tries to it up but only ends up hunched over, with blue and white code dripping from his chin. 

Beck wheezes, gripping on to a ledge for strength, when someone touches his shoulder. He jerks, hand moving from his stomach to draw his disc, swinging it wildly in front of him.

The program raises her hands in peace. “I’m not here to hurt you, Tron.”

“Then what are you here for?” His voice shakes from the amount of effort he has to put into speaking.

“To help.” She says simply.

“I don’t want help.”

“No.” She agrees. “But if I don’t then the grid will be lost to itself.”

His eyes close. “Isn’t it someone else’s turn?” He’s so so weary.

“You’re the only one who can save it.” She kneels by his side, voice becoming more and more urgent. “The grid won’t survive without a system administrator. You’re the only one with enough experience to handle the job.”

He snorts at that, then has to spit out code. “I lead a ragtag rebellion, not the entire grid.”

“So you’ll let the grid collapse and every program die because you’re too self-conscious to lead?” As if to add weight to her words, alarms start blaring, announcing the grids self destruct.

He doesn’t answer her question. “I won’t live long enough to lead them.”

“Yes, you will.” She sounds so sure.

A wave of anger unlike anything else he’s ever felt rises in him. He just wants some peace. Beck takes another shaky breath and closes his eyes as they start to water. “What do I have to do?”

“Put your disc on the right side of the podium, I’ll place Clu’s on the left. It should initiate the sequencing, then, the rest is left to the grid.”

“How long will I have to be admin?”

“Until someone else is old enough to replace you.”

So a long time, he translates. Most people his age were dead.

Painfully, he’s aware that this isn’t what he wants. He doesn’t want to be the administrator. All he wants is some rest.

But what he wants has never mattered. “Okay.” He whispers.

She nods and hurries off to retrieve Clu’s disc, then slots it into the panel. The screen glows yellow in acknowledgment.

“Can you stand?”

He shakes his head, then regrets the action. “I’m about a nano away from being cubes.” He rasps.

She kneels down, throws his good arm over her shoulder, and slowly rises with her bearing his weight. “Place your disc there.” She points to the slot.

He blinks rapidly, trying to clear the spots from his vision and maintain his very limited control of nausea, so with a shaky hand, he inserts his disc.

The right half instantly flashes white and dies down to a light blue. The effect of both discs is immediate, the yellow and blue war against each other on the screen. Slowly, the yellow gains ground, turning more and more blue- yellow, until there is just a speck of blue left. And then, the white explodes outwards, swallowing the yellow and expanding even further, running down the panel’s circuits and chasing out any color other than blue.

A gasp escapes him as the pain surges, and knocks Beck to the ground, screaming as his leg shatters from the knee down on impact. The pain takes over everything. First his hearing. And then his sight.

He can feel himself screaming, even if he can’t hear it. He doesn’t even stop when he collapses on his side. His body feels like it’s on fire. It feels like every cube in him is being torn out piece by piece; he imagines this is what repurposing feels like. Having every piece of you stripped away, replacing everything that feels right, with something wrong.

The worst though, feels like someone reached inside his core and twists. His breath leaves him in a short gasp and he claws at his throat, fingers digging into his skin hard enough to draw code. He’s desperate for air, his chest grows tighter and tighter the longer he goes without air, to the point he can’t even move without searing chest pain.

Slowly, unwillingly, his movements start to still; hands slipping from his neck, suit lights flickering to black and then, his head falls to the side, eyes staring at the portal.

And in the midst of nothingness, he swears he sees a pillar of white growing closer and closer.


	3. I'm old and you used to be too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're back, but they don't know

He wakes with a gasp, body jerking violently as he turns on his side, coughing up the code lodged in his throat into a puddle beneath him. He lets his forehead rest against the ground, trying to make sense of all the new information being fed into him.

_ Error. Error. Error. Errorerrorerrorerrorerror. _

_ Sector 13 energy production down 3.02% _

_ Sector 42 vulnerability level up 19.61% _

_ Region 194 sustaining damage at 1.039% every nano. _

_ Critical Damage to Regions 256-309. _

_ Sector 1 collapsing. _

_ Portal unsteady. _

And then a rising tone, sounding like it’s being played straight in his ear. It reaches the point he clamps his hand over his ear, but then, in a mere nano, he’s filled with the overwhelming need to  _ move _ .

He pushes himself to the side, and less than a fraction of nano later, a hand hits the ground where he had been.

He rolls, disc igniting in hand, taking a defensive position against his attackers. He feels an awareness he’s never had before. He can feel every single program, he can feel the energy flowing around him, he can feel every piece of the grid all at once. It’s overwhelming, but the presence of a threat pushes it to the back, and he settles in his battle driven focus.

But then he narrows his eyes as he sizes up the threat before him. Beck tilts his head as information filters in.

_ Threat Level: 5 _

_ Age: Unknown _

_ Designation: Unknown _

Before him, he can almost see an attack plan being laid out before him. He starts to take a step, but then the woman before him holds up her hands in a peaceful gesture.

But its not the woman who makes him stop. It’s the man that comes up behind her that causes him to freeze.

_ Threat Level: Max _

_ Age: Unknown  _ _ 1063 _

_ Designation: Monitor _

The buzzing fades away, it feels like his hearing is muffled, the input from the grid seems to stop, and he’s left staring, mouth suddenly dry.

“..Tron?” His voice is soft, hesitant, disbelieving and he takes a step forward, pushing the pain from his (hurt?) leg.

His chest feels like it’s about to burst, with what he doesn’t know. All he knows is that Tron is there, he’s alive, he’s okay and he’s  _ in front of him _ .

“How do you know who I am?”

He freezes in his next step and in that nano, he has a choice to make. Make Tron remember, or lie and protect him.

Time seems to move slowly around him, as hundreds of choices are being made and data is being taken in. The woman must be his counterpart, Yori, if he remembers right.

If Tron doesn’t remember him, then he more than likely doesn’t remember the war.

If Tron doesn’t remember the war then he doesn’t remember the coup.

He tilts his head a fraction, taking in the man in front of him. He’s slightly tensed -on edge- but overall, he’s relaxed. He’s  _ trusting _ .

_ Fool. _ A bitter part of Beck thinks, but he ignores it.

“Your symbol.” He finally says, in an attempt to answer his question.

“But I’ve never been here before, I’ve never met you.”

_ This is the Tron from the old grid. _

_ Good thing I’m a decent liar. _

“Flynn had told me about you. He said I should be expecting you when the war here is over.”

“Oh. You know Flynn, then? Who are you?”

“My name is Beck. I’m the System Monitor. And I guess now it’s Administrator.”

Tron frowns. But it isn’t nearly as deep as the frown he wore when Beck knew him. “But  _ I’m _ the system monitor.” He isn’t looking at Beck. He looks around the room, there’s code everywhere, scorch marks, haphazardly abandoned disks. “What happened here?”

Beck can’t stop the bitter laugh that escapes him. “Short answer? I ended the war.” He knows what he has to do. He knows how to do it. But he isn’t sure it’s what he wants.

He wants Tron to remember. Remember everything. Remember  _ him _ . He wants it more than anything at the moment. But that’s not fair to Tron. Tron deserves happiness. He deserves peace, more than anyone he knows. He deserves a chance to finally rest and enjoy his life without anyone taking it from him.

And Beck has the power to give it to him.

He isn’t naive to think he was that important to Tron. To think that Tron would have wanted to know him after the war. Or to know him if there had never been a war. He knows, without a doubt, that it was circumstance that caused Tron to be there, and if he could have, Tron wouldn’t have chosen to know him.

He can’t let Tron remember him.

He can’t take away his peace, his new life.

“You still are, technically, a System Monitor. But since I’m here, you don’t have to fight anymore. After you fought the MCP Flynn wanted to give you a break. That’s what I’m here for.” 

He can swing this lie. Afterall, it’s not like there’s anyone alive to say differently.

“Oh.” Tron’s brow furrows and there’s a sharp pain in Beck’s chest.  _ His _ Tron wouldn’t have accepted that so easily. “Flynn didn’t say anything about that to me.”

“He wanted it to be a surprise. A gift of sorts. I’m supposed to take over now, so that way you can rest and have some time off with Y- your wife.”

“Really?” He looks unsure.

Beck nods. “Really.” He leans against the control panel, taking weight off of his hurt leg, it might have been rerezzed, but it still wasn’t in good shape.

“Where are we supposed to go?” Yori asks him.

“There’s a few cities you could try. I’d avoid Tron City and other central cities. Even though they’re now under my banner, they are going to be going under major changes in the few mili’s.” User’s, that is going to be so much work. “The two of you could find an apartment there and do whatever you want.”

“Did Flynn leave us any credits?”

_ Glitch. _ “No, I think he forgot. But don’t worry.” He hurries to say, and produces one of his military clearance cards. It’s a thin metal, silver, with the Tron symbol engraved into it along with a set of numbers. “Once you find a place, give them that card. I’ll handle the rest on my end.”

“Thank you.” Tron tells him and Beck pauses.

That might be the first time Tron had ever thanked him, he smiles a little. “You’re welcome.”

Now that the basics are cleared up, Yori moves closer to him. “What happened to you?” She asks in mild horror, he looks down in confusion, other than his leg he feels fine.

On his chest he sees the injuries he had before start to slowly appear. But that’s not what catches his attention. What catches his attention is the yellow on him; the entire suit in general. 

All of his original circuits are gone, there is no blue left on his body. Now it’s a black suit with yellow circuits running down his legs and arms with white accents on his knees and elbows. 

But it’s not the yellow that leaves him staring at his chest. It’s the fact that he still has the Tron symbol on his chest. In disbelief, he reaches up and gently touches it.

It’s still there.

And this time it’s not him wearing Tron’s suit. Or playing dress up of a dead program.

This time it’s his. 

He isn’t sure if he’s pleased or not.

“It’s fine.” He wheezing cough betrays him. “I’ve had worse.”   
“You’ve had worse than this?” He can see bits of horror on Tron’s face.

_ This isn’t as bad as what they did to you. _

He nods, closing his eyes, steadying himself. “I’ll be okay, I’m sending for a medical ship to come in get me.” He wraps an arm around his stomach. “I can have them drop you two off if you’d like, or you can drive.”

“It’s probably better if we ride with you, we don’t know where any of the cities are.” Yori says.

Beck nods slightly. “Good point.” With a grimace, he reaches up to press his comm. “This is the Renegade. I need an emergency medical evac at sector one.”

“Copy Renegade, this is Zulu-3, I’ve got three Choppers standing by and one refractor. Who’s hurt, I’ll see which I can spare.”

“I am."

There’s a pause. “Sending out the refractor and a security escort now.”

He’d protest pulling troops from the capital, but he can’t manage the energy. “Two programs will be accompanying us temporarily.”

“Acknowledged. How bad is your injury general?”

He takes another look down and swallows the bile in his throat. He’s more cubes than he is solid. “It’s...pretty bad.” As if to punctuate his statement, his arm gives out and he falls to the floor with a thud. Beside him, Yori and Tron hurry to his side, hands ghosting over his wounds.

“Understood, hold tight, the fleet is already on its way. ETA 35 micros.”

“I won’t make it that long.” He runs a diagnostic on himself. “I have around 13 micros, give or take a few.”

It’s quiet and then: “We’re putting a Medic on a light jet and sending them ahead, they’ll be able to keep you alive till the refactor can arrive.”

“Copy.”

He lets his hand fall away from the comm with a grunt, and sees Yori reaching for his disc.  _ No. _

With a strength he didn’t know he had, he reaches out and grabs her wrist, not hard enough to hurt her, but strong enough to stop her. “Do not touch my disc.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Tron, disc in hand, near him. “I’m not going to hurt her, Tron.” To prove his point, he lets go of her and grabs his disc instead. 

“I just want to help.” Yori tries telling him, hands up in an offering of peace.

He closes his eyes. “I know. But no one touches my disc.” Now he means it even more than before. A program getting his hands on the admin disc would be catastrophic.

“You’ll derezz if you don’t let her help.”

_ As if I’d be that lucky.  _ “I have an evac fleet on the way. A medic will be here soon.”

“Will they make it in time?” Tron kneels beside him, and Beck opens his eyes to look at him.

There’s no scar on his face, no deep frown lines, no hardened look to his eyes, and his hair is...fluffy. 

A small laugh escapes him, remembering all the times Tron had made fun of his hair, when he had the same type of hair.  _ Hypocrite _ , he thinks fondly, closing his eyes just in time to miss the confused look on Tron’s face.

He can’t find the energy to answer Tron’s question. To be honest, he doesn’t know the answer himself. He thinks they will be, but he can’t be sure.

Beck doesn’t even notice when all the sounds around him become fuzzy, he can’t hear their individual tones anymore. He can’t hear Tron’s steady, unwavering, bold tone, nor Yori’s high pitched, cold note.

But he still feels when the exhaust from a light jet hits him and the vibrations of it landing. Within a nano, there’s someone in medic green by his side, lowering him down to the ground and taking his disc.

He doesn’t bother stopping them, they know better than to mess with anything other than what he needs.

Beck thinks they are talking to him, but he can’t be sure, it all just melds into the fuzziness. He sees one of his combat soldiers pull Tron and Yori away, keeping them from the mess. In the midst of everything, he feels a sharp pain in his left arm.

Slowly, he turns his head to look at it, blinking several times in an attempt to clear the blurriness from his eyes. He sees a thin, green bar attached to his arm circuit, an intracircuit transfer. 

Then there’s someone in his face, snapping their fingers. “Sir? Sir, can you hear me?”

With his last bit of strength, he gives a small nod. “S-save my leg.” He rasps.

“Focus on me, sir. The other medics are arriving, I need you to stay awake until they get to you.”

He doesn’t respond past making his eyes open again, he watches the medic start to apply patches to the worst of his injuries, and what feels like an eternity later, he sees a group of medics hurry towards him.

Finally, as the medics surround him, does he get some rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked chapter one! I tried not to give too much away in it. I'll try to post once a week, but I do work fulltime and go to school fulltime. (Comments help keep me encouraged!)


End file.
